Pawns
by Alyssa Blackbourn
Summary: On his way home from school one afternoon, Peter is taken by surprise and has to call Tony for help. Was it really just wrong place, wrong time? Or is there something more at work? A little unsure about this one; feedback is appreciated.
1. Random

Peter's mind was a million miles away as he walked towards his apartment after a particularly long day at school. He was exhausted—lately he'd been trying to make an effort to balance his school and his work as Spider-Man, but it seemed there just weren't enough hours in the day. He wanted to do both; he was sure of that. He just wasn't so sure it was possible.

"Excuse me," a voice jolted Peter from his thoughts just as he was about to turn down the alley beside his apartment building. A man stood before him, giving him a sheepish grin.

"Sorry, can you help me real quick?" he asked. "I'm a little lost, and my phone only has five percent battery, so if I use my GPS I'll never make it before the battery dies. Can you tell me how to get to this address?"

He handed Peter his phone, the screen displaying the address in a text message.

"Yeah, definitely," Peter nodded, his eyes on the screen as the man he was helping moved closer to him. "You're not too far off, actually, um...what you're gonna want to do is go down this street here for about a block, then hang a left and go straight for another two blocks, and the building you're looking for should be on your left."

He gave the phone back to the man, who smiled at him.

"Thanks," he said evenly, but he didn't start walking. Instead, he glanced around quickly, and before Peter could react, he stabbed the knife he'd been holding out of sight into the teenager's gut, clamping his other hand over the boy's mouth to keep him quiet. He pushed the shocked and bleeding Avenger into the alley and shoved him up against the wall, twisting the knife quickly before ripping it free and releasing him. Peter, gasping, slid down the wall, his shaking hands covering the wound in his stomach. The man didn't say a word, leaving the scene hurriedly, knife still in hand.

By the time Peter realized what had just happened, the pain had set in, and he was struggling to think clearly through the panic. Some part of him was trying to manage the situation, telling him he needed to call for help. But then he remembered the suit in his backpack; he couldn't let anyone, not even an EMT or a doctor, see him with that. So, with numb, trembling fingers, he pulled his phone from his pocket and called Tony, praying he'd answer.

"Hey, kid," Tony greeted him after the third ring. "What's up?"

"Hey, Mr. Stark," Peter's voice shook when he spoke, despite his best efforts, some part of him slightly embarrassed that this had happened to him in the first place. "How, ah...how fast do you think you could...get to the city?"

"I'm actually in the city right now," Tony told him, the frown on his face evident in his voice. "Peter, what's going on? What's wrong?"

"I, ah..." Peter trailed off, tears falling from his eyes as the shock wore off and the pain became even more intense. Blood was pouring from his injury, and he grit his teeth as he tried to put pressure on it. "I...I think I screwed up, Mr. Stark; I...Oh, God, I need help..."

"Peter!" By this time, Tony's heart was pounding, and he'd already left the lobby of the building in which he was supposed to be having his meeting, instead calling his suit from his jet and jumping into it, taking off immediately, already starting a trace on the teenager's phone. "Peter, talk to me; tell me what's happening."

"This guy, he just...was just asking for directions, and I..." Peter trailed off, his breaths short and ragged. By this time, Tony knew where he was.

"Peter, I'll be there in less than a minute; just hold on," Tony urged, the knot in his stomach nearly unbearable. Peter didn't respond, but Tony just tried to focus on his labored breathing and moans of pain; at least they told him that the boy was still alive. Finally, after what felt like ages, he found his young friend, landing beside him and stepping out of his suit. Tony struggled to keep the panic from his face as he quickly crouched beside the boy in the dirty alleyway, putting his hand over the hand Peter was using to try and put pressure on the wound.

"Oh, God, what happened?" Tony demanded, his eyes wide. "Peter, stay with me; what happened?"

"This guy...I didn't see him coming...I should have seen it coming..." Peter struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Jesus, kid; why didn't you just call an ambulance?' Tony questioned worriedly, already calling the nearest hospital so they'd be ready for him.

"The suit," Peter looked over at his bag, which had fallen off his shoulder when he was pushed into the alley. His voice was weak and scratchy, and sweat had broken out on his forehead "I can't leave the suit, and I...I can't let anyone...see me with it..."

"Shit," Tony muttered under his breath. Finally, the hospital answered, and he told them what was happening, to be ready when they arrived. "Okay, kid; just hold on."

With this, he stepped back from the wounded teenager, jumping back into his suit before picking him up—making sure to grab his backpack before flying into the air as fast as he could. It took less than three minutes for them to arrive at the hospital, where several nurses were waiting with a gurney. Iron Man gently placed the boy on the gurney, and then Tony stepped out of the suit. As they wheeled Peter away into surgery, one of the doctors turned to him.

"What can you tell us about what happened?" she asked, her tone very professional.

"Nothing," Tony shook his head, acutely aware of the blood on his hand, still gripping Peter's backpack. "I wasn't there. Peter's an, um...an intern of mine. I called when he didn't show up, and then I flew out to find him."

"Okay, well, don't worry, Mr. Stark," the doctor gave him a reassuring smile. "We will do everything we can for Peter. Is there a number we can reach you at when he gets out of surgery?"

"Actually, I think I'll wait," Tony replied. The doctor gave him a small smile, then walked off. Once he was left alone, Tony sent his suit back to his jet and shouldered Peter's backpack, making a beeline for the bathroom to wash the blood from his hands. His stomach was still in knots as he watched the blood go down the drain, his thoughts racing as he tried to make sense of what happened. Best case scenario, this was just a random thing. Peter was not targeted; it was just a case of wrong place, wrong time. He's not in any lingering danger.

But there was always that second possibility: That he _had_ been targeted. That it _wasn't_ random. That he _was_ in danger.

Tony shook his head, turning to grab a couple paper towels and dry his hands. Then, after checking the bathroom, he called Happy.

"Tony, where are you?" his head of security demanded. "The guy at the front desk said you took off in the suit. What's going on?"

"It's Peter," Tony sighed. "We might have a problem. He was stabbed on his way home from school."

"That's impossible," Happy sounded both concerned and shocked. "I watched that kid's tracker from the moment he left campus; he made it home."

"No, he made it right outside his home," Tony told him. "In broad daylight. Look, I'm not saying it's because of Spider-Man, but I'm saying it's possible. Tell Pepper to cover for me, okay? Go pick up Aunt May and meet me here. I'm going to wait until he's at least out of surgery before I go anywhere."

"On it," Happy agreed dutifully. They hung up, and Tony returned to the waiting room, claiming a chair and putting Peter's backpack at his feet. The billionaire loosened his tie, feeling like he'd be there for a while, and went about waiting for news, ignoring more than a few curious glances in his direction.

* * *

 _ **Alright, here's the deal: Not entirely sure where I'm going with this one. I have a direction, don't get me wrong, but not an endgame. Not yet. All I know is, after watching Spider-Man: Homecoming, I kinda want to knock Peter around a little bit and see Tony be angsty about it. So, if you'll stick around for that, cheers! If not, thanks for trying. Until next time, thanks for reading, and please don't forget to review.**_


	2. Security

Peter woke up very gradually, his mind struggling to make sense of what he was hearing, smelling, and seeing. He could hear his heart monitor and the drip of his IV, smell the sharp odor of antiseptic, and when he opened his eyes, he could very foggily see a vague outline of furniture and a door across from him. The young boy groaned, blinking a few times and rubbing his eyes as he pushed himself upright in bed—or, he tried to, anyway. The movement sent pain tearing violently through him, and he gasped.

"Hey, take it easy, Parker," Peter turned to his right and saw Tony getting up from a chair. Iron Man looked him over, concern in his eyes, before he spoke again. "How're you feeling?"

"Tired," Peter grumbled, trying to clear his head. "How long have I been out?"

"Just about a day," Tony told him, putting his hands in his pockets. "Your classmates and teachers all came by," he nodded at the other end of the room, where flowers and well-wishes crowded the window ledge, "all of them very worried, I assure you. Your friends Ned and MJ said they'd be back after class let out today. And your Aunt May, wow...she just about strangled me when she got here. Blamed me for what happened. She's very strong for such a small woman. She's in the cafeteria now; hasn't eaten since she got here."

"It's not your fault," Peter shook his head. "It was mine. I should have known something was up."

"Think you're up to telling me what happened?" Tony asked, pulling his chair closer to the wounded teenager's bedside. Peter nodded drowsily, shifting position again.

"I was walking home," he began, his voice quiet and husky with sleep. "I was distracted, and...this guy asked for directions, so I gave them to him, and...he just stabbed me. I didn't see it coming; he was such a normal guy..."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it, kid," Tony advised, feeling his stomach churn as Peter recounted the story. "This guy...did he want anything?"

"I don't think so," Peter shook his head. "He didn't touch my backpack...didn't take my phone or wallet...just stabbed me and left."

"Hmm," Tony frowned, looking away as he processed the young boy's words.

"Mr. Stark, you don't..." Peter trailed off, trying not to let himself sound as nervous as he was. "You don't think it's because of Spider-Man, do you?"

Tony hesitated, debating how much of the truth he should tell. Finally, the billionaire shrugged.

"I don't know," he admitted finally. "It's possible. But it's also possible that it was a random act of violence; we are in New York City, after all."

"Right," Peter nodded. "But...what are the odds that it really was just a coincidence?"

"Higher than you'd think," Tony assured him, trying to convince himself as much as the teenager in the hospital bed. "I'm sure it's got nothing to do with Spider-Man, Peter. But just in case, I'm gonna leave a couple of my people here to keep an eye on things, okay? Just focus on getting better, kid. I'll take care of everything else."

Peter gave him a small, grateful smile, but before he could say anything else, Aunt May returned. When she saw Peter awake, she rushed over to him, hugging him as tightly as she dared. The teenager hugged her back, feeling a pang of guilt for making her worry.

"Thank God," May said finally, her throat tight as she fought back tears. "Peter Parker, don't you dare do that to me ever again."

"I'm sorry, May," Peter apologized.

"This is why I don't want you to do this 'internship,'" May pulled back, shooting a glare in Tony's direction. Ever since she found out about what exactly her nephew was doing at the infamous 'Stark internship,' she'd been vehemently against it, and said so every chance she got. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"May, it had nothing to do with Spider-Man," Peter shook his head, knowing that he wasn't certain about that, but not wanting to have to have the same argument again. "I wasn't even wearing the suit when it happened; I was just coming home from school."

Aunt May didn't look convinced, but she didn't press the subject, either. Before she could say anything else, the door opened. A doctor stepped inside, and when he did, Peter saw Happy and another man standing by the door, as if guarding it, and he couldn't help but smile a little.

"Well, good morning, Mr. Parker," the doctor smiled at him, closing the door.

"Peter, this is Doctor Kowalski," Tony introduced them as Kowalski came closer to the teenager, shining a light in his eyes and making a few notes on his chart. "I flew him in from upstate. This way, no one will ask too many questions as to why you're healing so fast."

"I'm pretty good at keeping secrets," Kowalski gave another smile, and Peter smiled back. "So, how're you feeling, Mr. Parker?"

"Good," Peter assured him. "Relatively, anyway."

"Pain on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst pain you've ever experienced?"

"Ahm..." Peter shifted in his bed and grit his teeth, grimacing visibly. "Ah...four."

"Hmm," Kowalski didn't seem convinced, and slightly raised the dose of his painkillers. Peter couldn't help but be a little grateful.

"Alright," the doctor sighed. "Well, Peter, I'm going to borrow your aunt for a minute; you get some rest. You're going to be just fine."

"Thanks, Doc," Peter smiled, already feeling the painkillers. Kowalski smiled back at him, then nodded at Aunt May, who followed him outside the room. When the door was closed, Tony turned to the boy.

"Hey, Peter," he said slowly, waiting until the teenager looked at him before continuing, "you said this guy wanted directions?"

"Yeah," Peter confirmed. "And if he actually needed directions, he's not too bright; he was only three blocks off. It couldn't have been that hard to figure out."

"You remember the address?" Tony asked.

"No," the wounded teen shook his head. When Tony looked a little disappointed, he added, "But I do remember the directions I gave. I said it was one block back the way I came, then take a left and go two blocks, and then the building should have been on the left. That's all I got; I'm sorry. I wasn't even looking at his face too much; I just wanted to get home."

"Hey," Tony put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Like I told you before: I'll take care of everything; you just get better. Deal?"

Peter hesitated, then nodded with a small smile, already tired again.

"I'm going to take a look around the area, see what I find," the billionaire announced after a moment, standing up and putting his chair back up against the wall. "Get some rest. Happy and two more of my guys are gonna be right outside if you need anything. If you remember anything else, shoot me a text."

"I will," Peter promised as Tony started for the door.

"Oh, and by the way," he stopped with his hand on the door handle, "I don't think you'll have too much to prove to...what was his name...Flash, was it? Flash Thompson? Yeah, he came by with a big group of your classmates, and he saw me waiting in here, and wow, I have never seen someone's jaw hit the floor that hard."

Peter's eyes lit up, and he laughed in spite of the pain it caused, and Tony smiled.

"Get some rest, kid."

"Hey, Mr. Stark," Tony turned back to him again. "Thanks for picking up the phone. And, you know, for bringing me here."

"Yeah, don't make a habit of needing that, but," Peter once again laughed at his mentor's only half-joking tone, "you're welcome."

At last, Tony left Peter's hospital room, giving a nod to May—who was talking to Doctor Kowalski a little farther down the hall—before pulling Happy aside.

"I'm going to go check out the alley and see what I can find," he told his head of security. "I know I don't have to say it, but don't let that kid out of your sight until I get back."

"Agreed," Happy nodded, a twinge of guilt in his eyes.

"Hey, Happy," Tony stopped him before he could turn away. "Don't beat yourself up about this; you couldn't have known what happened by staring at a dot on a screen."

"I know that," Happy assured him. "But I was supposed to be looking out for that kid. It happened on my watch."

"But it wasn't your fault," Tony argued, frowning. "C'mon Hap; you walk into that room and the kid's gonna tell you the same thing. If I thought you'd screwed up, I wouldn't be asking you—trusting you—to stay and watch him. Right?"

"Right," Happy sighed, forcing a slight smile. "Thanks."

"I'll let you know what I find," Tony promised, then quickly headed outside, starting to make his way towards the scene of the crime.

* * *

 _ **Hey guys! Well, it's my birthday, so I'm not going to get a chance to write much today. I know this chapter wasn't very exciting; hope I can deliver next time. I planned on having more when I posted this, but I honestly kind of forgot that it was gonna be my birthday, so...shit happens. Happy 21st to me! I'll drink to you all tonight! XD Cheers!**_


	3. Peter Parker

Tony arrived at Peter's apartment to find the cops already there, and the billionaire frowned. He knew he couldn't put his people on it without questions being asked, but it would have made his own investigation much easier. Thankfully, at least, they probably wouldn't be trying to contact him again, since he'd already given his statement while waiting for Peter to get out of surgery. Iron Man's stomach churned when he caught a glimpse of the blood that had pooled just inside the alley, and quickly tore his eyes away, surveying the area. He didn't notice any readily apparent cameras pointed in that direction, but he'd have F.R.I.D.A.Y. check it out. Wordlessly, the billionaire separated himself from the small crowd of onlookers and started walking, following Peter's directions. He walked back one block, then took a left, walked two blocks, and started looking at the buildings on his left. They were mostly residential, or businesses with apartments above them. He didn't know where to start, and was just about to get his suit so that F.R.I.D.A.Y. could give him a hand when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Tony checked the device and saw that Peter had texted him.

 _I still don't remember the address, but the apartment number was 706_

Tony smiled, quickly sending a thank you text. There was only one residential building on that block with seven floors. Getting in was easy; he just buzzed a few apartments until one of them buzzed him in, and then he made his way up to the seventh floor.

Apartment 706 was on the back side of the apartment building, away from the street and in the corner. Tony hesitated in front of the door, considering what he should do or say if the door opened, before taking a breath and knocking. He waited, but received no answer, so he knocked again. Nothing. Finally, glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he tried the door handle. It turned easily in his hand, and the billionaire quietly entered the apartment, closing the door behind him.

The apartment was large and spacious, but as Tony looked around, he was surprised to see it completely empty. He couldn't see a single piece of furniture in the entire space. There was no couch in the living room, no breakfast table near the kitchen, and not even a microwave. It was as if no one had lived there for a long time. Tony couldn't help but be a little disappointed; so much for his big lead.

Still, he didn't give up, making his way into the apartment to continue his search. The first door he came to led to the bathroom, which, like the rest of the house, had no evidence of anyone living there—there wasn't even a shower curtain to speak of. The last door, however, was a little more interesting. It led to the bedroom, and unlike the rest of the house, there was furniture. In this case, it was just a plastic folding table, a cheap chair, and a sleeping bag, but it was at least evidence that someone had been there. There was also a laptop on the table, which Tony made a beeline for, opening it up and turning it on. As he expected, it was password protected, but he wasn't concerned; he was sure he'd be able to get in in no time. For now, though, it would be a good idea to get out of there before the laptop's owner came back, so he closed the laptop again and picked it up hurrying towards the exit. But before he could get there, the door opened wide.

"Shit," Tony breathed, freezing in his tracks. There was nowhere to hide, and the man standing in the doorway looked right at him in confusion.

"Um...what the hell are you doing in here?" he asked slowly, suspicion making its way onto his face.

"Who are you?" Tony questioned in response, his muscles tense.

"I own the building, asshole; who the hell are you?" the man's irritation grew quickly. Tony let a little tension out of his shoulders; it was just the landlord.

"Tony Stark," he replied, a little arrogance in his voice, wondering how he hadn't been recognized. "Here on official Avengers business. Kind of. Thanks for your help."

With this, he quickly left the apartment before the landlord could ask any more questions.

* * *

"Hey, Peter, what'd you get for number seven?" Ned asked his best friend. He and MJ had come directly to the hospital after school, and the three of them were currently doing their homework. It was starting to get late, but Peter was grateful for the company; he was losing his mind trying to deal with the boredom of being stuck in that hospital bed. Aunt May had gone back to work at Peter's prompting, and he'd made her promise to sleep in the apartment that night—if what happened really was because someone found out he was Spider-Man, he didn't want her anywhere near him, and Tony already promised to have people watching the place. She'd decided to still drop by and see him after work.

"Um..." Peter checked back at his work, "2.78 meters per second. MJ? What about you?"

"Same here," MJ agreed.

"What? How?!" Ned demanded, frustrated. MJ shuffled her chair over to look at his work.

"It's an inelastic collision, not an elastic one," she told him after a moment, reaching over and underlining the word 'inelastic' in the question.

"Oh," Ned let out a breath of relief; the problem had seemed totally impossible until that point. Peter and MJ snickered as he relaxed in his seat. "Right."

"Alright, kids, I think it's time to let Peter get some rest," Kowalski said with a slight smile, adjusting some of the settings on the machines that surrounded his patient. The three teens groaned collectively.

"Come on, Doc; just a little longer," Peter begged.

"Sorry, kid, but the best thing for you right now is rest."

Peter, MJ, and Ned all grumbled under their breath irritably as Kowalski left the room, but started packing their bags anyway.

"We'll see you tomorrow, Peter," MJ promised. Ned looked over at his best friend as if to say, 'we definitely need to talk later,' and Peter nodded in understanding. He and Ned needed to talk about what happened, and they needed to do it without MJ. With this, the two teenagers left their friend in peace, passing Happy on the way out. Tony's head of security was pulling out his ringing phone as they passed, and he glanced first at Ned and MJ as they left, then in at Peter before he closed the door and answered the phone.

"Hey Happy," Tony greeted him as he paced away from the door. "How's the kid?"

"Doc says he's gonna be fine," Happy assured him. "His friends just left. What did you find on that laptop?"

"Nothing good," Tony admitted. "Pictures. Tons and tons of pictures. Other stuff, too, but I've been focusing on the pictures, because here's the thing: they're all just of Peter; there are no pictures of Spider-Man or pictures of Peter in the suit. At least, so far; I haven't gotten through all of it. So...maybe Peter was the target. Not Spider-Man."

"Maybe, but I don't see why that would be the case," Happy frowned. "It's not like he has any real enemies outside of that."

"Yeah, that's what's confusing me, too," Tony sighed. "I'm going to keep digging; you stay on the kid. I'll probably come by tomorrow to check up on him."

"You got it," Happy agreed. "Good luck."

The two of them said their goodbyes and hung up as Happy headed into Peter's room.

"Hey, Happy," Peter smiled at his handler. "Did Tony find anything?"

Before Happy could reply, they heard screaming outside. Peter quickly realized that it wasn't the kind of screaming one might expect in a hospital—the screams were full of terror.

"Stay here," Happy ordered seriously, quickly closing the blinds on the window that looked into the teenager's room from the hallway.

"But—" Peter began, but he couldn't finish his thought before Happy cut him off.

"Stay here!"

The wounded teenager watched Happy disappear out into the hallway, and as soon as he was gone, he slipped carefully out of bed, grimacing at every movement. He disconnected the heart monitor and grabbed his IV pole, shuffling carefully over to the window and parting the blinds. To his horror, he saw one of the people Tony left to keep an eye on him already on the floor—dead or unconscious, he wasn't sure. The other guy had his gun drawn and was aiming at someone farther down the hallway. Shuffling a little to the side, Peter caught a glimpse of a face he recognized. It was the man who'd stabbed him, and he wasn't alone; there were at least seven others with him. Peter quickly dropped the blinds, hustling back to his backpack on the other side of the room as fast as he could. Once there, the teenager snatched up his phone and called Tony. The older man picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, kid, you should be getting some sleep right about now," Tony began, but Peter cut him off.

"Tony, you gotta get to the hospital," Peter gasped fearfully. He felt utterly helpless, unable to protect anyone out there. "The guy who stabbed me—he's here, and he brought friends, and one of your guys is already down! I don't know if he's even alive; I don't...I don't know what to do!"

"Don't do anything," Tony ordered. "You stay in your room and stay out of sight. You can't go out there, Peter; you're not well enough to fight. Happy can take care of it until I get there."

"But, Tony, I—" again, the teenager was silenced.

"No buts!" Tony snapped. "I'm on my way. You stay out of it, Peter; this is one fight you should not take on. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Tony hung up before Peter could say anything else, and the young man groaned in frustration, putting his phone down. He heard another scream outside, and the lights above him flickered. He knew he had to do something.

Reaching into his bag again, he felt around for his suit, and was relieved when he found it. Taking a deep breath, he disconnected his IV and started putting the suit on. By the time his mask was on and he was ready to go, he'd already heard more screaming, the lights had flickered again, and he'd heard Happy's voice a few times, although he couldn't tell what was being said. The teenager quickly went over to his window, the pain from his movements getting steadily worse now that he was no longer connected to the painkillers, and climbed out, shuffling along the wall towards the window at the end of the hallway. He froze in his tracks when he heard the door to the room he'd just been recuperating in burst open. The young man edged back towards the window and listened closely, trying to ignore the pain violently tearing through his entire body.

"Where is he?" Peter recognized the voice, and his stomach clenched. "Where's the kid?"

"I told you," Happy sounded breathless and a little bit surprised. "He's not here. He was transferred as soon as he woke up."

"That's not what the nurse at the front desk said," the man who'd stabbed Peter scoffed. "Or are you telling me that she's a liar? Because if she's a liar, then..."

"That's not what I said," Happy argued, sounding frustrated. "She probably didn't know; he only woke up a couple hours ago."

Peter swallowed hard, then moved towards the window at the end of the hallway, peering in furtively. He could see the seven other men he'd glimpsed through the blinds plus another three more, all armed and guarding the other patients and staff. Several patients were on the floor in the hallway, some were bleeding, and a couple were—hopefully—unconscious. He leaned back from the window, just hanging onto the edge of the building.

"Okay, okay, okay," he breathed quietly, trying to think through the pain. "Ah...Karen, any idea how much longer until Tony gets here?"

"He just sent you a text; he's less than ten minutes away," Karen told him inside the suit.

"Ten minutes...okay..." Peter let out a shaking breath. "That is...way too long. Damn it."

Realizing that he didn't have a choice if he was going to make sure everyone got out of there safe, the teenager shot a web up to the roof directly above the window into the hallway and looked into the window one more time. None of the intruders were looking in his direction, but a couple patients had caught a glimpse of him, and he put a finger to his lips quickly, warning them to keep quiet. Then, he jumped off the wall and let himself swing into the glass window. Unlike the windows in the Washington Monument, this window broke easily, allowing him to roll right into the action. The motion made him grimace, but he quickly shot webs at the two closest enemies, both rendering their guns useless and attaching them to the walls. The other eight down the hall immediately began shooting their guns at him, and he grabbed as many of the patients, visitors, and doctors out in the hallway as he could, ushering—or, in the case of the unconscious man meant to guard him, pulling—them into the room across from the one he'd been staying in.

"Stay here, lock the door," he ordered them—there were seven or eight of them in the room, all looking at him with wide, terror-filled eyes as the gunshots continued outside the room. "Help's on the way; just hang on."

With this, Spider-Man quickly left the room, shutting the door on his way out. Almost immediately after he set foot into the hallway, he was shot in the chest with a blast from what looked and sounded like one of Tony's repulsors turned into a gun. He yelped in shock and went flying back, catching himself on the window frame. The teenager gasped, pain lining his face under his mask, both from the hit and the strain his original injury was being forced to endure. Before they could land another hit, he leapt into his hospital room, tucking into a roll before coming up shooting. His webs quickly incapacitated the second enemy in the room—not the one who'd stabbed him—as Happy lay bleeding and unconscious on the floor. The young hero's stomach dropped at the sight of his handler, and in that brief loss of focus, he was knocked into the open bathroom, his elbow shattering the mirror above the sink and his head smacking against the wall with an audible _thump_.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to choose your battles wisely?" the man who'd stabbed him smirked, lifting his sub-machine gun to aim at the teenager. Peter quickly kicked the door closed and jumped to the left, out of the line of fire, as bullets began to fly.

"Karen, what's an ETA on Iron Man?" Peter asked, breathing heavily as his hand covered his original injury.

"Four minutes," Karen replied.

"Okay," Peter gasped. "Okay, I can do this..."

He waited for the gunshots to subside, then yanked open the door and jumped back into the room, launching himself feet first at his attacker and knocking him back into the far wall. The man dented the sheetrock with his body and came back swinging, as if he weren't even affected. Peter ducked and dodged the attacks as best he could, but he was much slower than he normally was, and before long, the man delivered a punishing blow to the teenager's gut, right where he'd been stabbed. He fell right beside Happy's unconscious form, gasping and gripping the wound in pain, half supported on his forearm.

"Give it up, Spider-Man," the man chuckled, hardly fazed from their fight. "Either tell me what I want to know or stay out of my way."

With this, he reached down and grabbed a fistful of Happy's shirt, pulling him up off the ground with one hand. Panic forced a rush of adrenaline, and Peter pushed himself to his feet.

"Let him go," he demanded painfully. Before the man could say anything, he grabbed Happy and kicked the man in the chest again. As their attacker stumbled back, Peter quickly put his handler on the floor in the bathroom, then pulled the door shut and kicked off the handle on the outside, effectively cutting the man off from attacking him again. But just as he was turning around to face the assailant again, he felt him grab hold of the back of his suit and throw him back out into the hallway. With a cry of shock and pain, Peter slammed hard into the door opposite him.

Groaning in near agony, Peter slowly started pushing himself to his feet, looking around the hallway. Patients and doctors were still cowering in their places, both of Tony's security people were bleeding on the floor, and a little farther down the hall, Doctor Kowalski was looking up at him from his place face down on the floor, his hands behind his head, concern and fear written on his face. A little too late, he noticed one of the other attackers take aim at him with the same repulsor-type gun that nearly knocked him out the window earlier, and his attempt to get out of the way was only marginally successful; instead of hitting him in the center of the chest, it hit his shoulder, and he fell back against the wall below the window.

"Karen, web grenade," Peter gasped painfully before quickly shooting off two of them. The grenades went off and pinned two soldiers up against the walls beside the first two, both of them dropping their weapons with a cry of surprise as the teenager struggled to recover from the blast, noticing that some of the other invaders were missing from where he'd first seen them.

Peter fought to stand up, but this time, he didn't get the chance to get up before the man who'd stabbed him was there, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him up off the floor, his feet dangling in the air.

"Next time I offer you advice," the man smirked victoriously as Peter tried in vain to loosen his grip on his neck, "I suggest you take it."

With this, he threw Peter out the broken window carelessly, effortlessly, and the teenager screamed as he plummeted towards the street below. He reacted quickly, shooting a web at the side of the building, and instead of crashing into the pavement, he swung towards it, his feet able to catch himself before he slammed into the brick. He was only a foot or so above the ground, now, so he dropped down, catching his breath on all fours behind an air conditioning unit, his limbs shaking and his body in nearly unbearable pain.

"Karen," he gasped, feeling blood leaking out of the stab wound in his stomach, only to be caught by the gauze covering it. "How much longer until Tony gets here?"

"He should be arriving shortly," his suit's AI told him. As promised, about thirty seconds later, he saw Iron Man fly through the window above and into the hospital. Relieved, Peter collapsed onto his back, gasping for air, and thought about what he should do. Every fiber within him wanted to get back up and help, but he knew he couldn't take any more hits; his stab wound was bleeding badly again, he was lightheaded, and he was pretty sure he'd broken a few bones, not to mention the fact that he was tasting blood in his mouth. Another bad hit—especially from the one who'd stabbed him, who was way stronger than he'd first anticipated—and he could be down for the count.

As much as he hated to admit it, this might have been a time when he needed to retreat, live to fight another day. Besides, they were looking for Peter Parker; it was probably a good idea to make sure that Peter Parker was nowhere near them. They'd have no reason to hurt anyone if he wasn't there.

Limbs shaking, the teenager got up again, grunting in pain, and made his way down the street, unsure of exactly where he was going, only that he needed to get away.

* * *

 _ **What's up guys? I'm back. Had a crazy last few weeks. Went on vacation, went to a Supernatural convention where I got a picture with Misha Collins (no, I don't care that a lot of you don't know what I'm talking about), and lost and then found my dog. But, long break means long chapter, so here you go. I hope you guys enjoy, and be prepared for an Iron Man fight next chapter; that's where I'm starting. Don't forget to review!**_


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